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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619497">afterwards (onwards)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaday/pseuds/halfaday'>halfaday</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>whumptober 2019 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SF9 (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Minor Character Death, chatting with your cousin on his father’s funeral day, epic genre there friends!!!, how to tag this hmmmmmmmmm, oh smoking warning also</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:15:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaday/pseuds/halfaday</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a while.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Seokwoo | Rowoon &amp; Lee Sanghyuk | Dawon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>whumptober 2019 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>afterwards (onwards)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>prompt 14: tear-stained</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He doesn't expect to find Sanghyuk there — leaning against the rail of the balcony, cigarette in hand and eyes bloodshot, tear streaks on his cheeks. It feels as if he were treading in uncharted territory, one he never requested to discover, and wouldn't have been allowed to had he done so — Seokwoo blushes and steps back, attempts to mumble an apology he struggles to enunciate clearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Sorry, I- the- I thought it was- back there- I-'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'It's fine.' Sanghyuk eyes him up and down, quickly — just once, then he looks up, and away. 'It's fine.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a drag of his cigarette, contemplating the landscape that stretches on and on before them; the wasteland and the park beyond it, the few people taking opportunity of the weather to spend a day with their families. The sun is high in the sky, embracing everything that dares stand beneath it — shines bright as children scream and teenagers laugh, far away and beyond, and Seokwoo briefly wonders, how things would go if today were a normal day, if it were just the average Thursday rather than the funeral of Sanghyuk's father. Not as if he'll ever find out — uncle Lee is dead, and the world spins differently now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'The view is pretty,' Seokwoo says, not actually meaning to mention this, not actually meaning to walk up to the rail and gaze forward and down, standing beside Sanghyuk but with still more than a few centimeters separating them, spiritual wall replacing the physical one that fell a few days ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk nods, keeps on looking at the sight before him — sniffles, once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Thanks for the compliment. I used to really like it as a kid.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Got tired of it?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk throws him a look, indecipherable — takes another drag of his cigarette, and seemingly relaxes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'A bit. I had friends back then. A full gang of friends. This used to be our territory. Then time passed, and we grew up.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment it seems as if he will not say anything else, will not open up and will deny the offer that comes with his father's death — but he throws another glance at Seokwoo, and this time, Seokwoo can see insecurity in them, as clear as day, no matter how fleeting the eye-contact is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk continues;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Two of the guys went to another school. Private school, studying baby Jesus' story. But we kept in touch. Tried to, as we grew up, and one of us broke ties with the rest, and another started taking extra classes. We didn't have much time in high school. Half of us were working — and the other half, well. We carried out the great tradition of not being in the same class anymore, not even in the same school.' Sanghyuk takes a drag of his cigarette — in his heart, Seokwoo feels sudden nervosity, apprehension. Knows, in a way, that he is about to know why, exactly, Sanghyuk dislikes the view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'I used to really like a girl, in eleventh grade. I had the biggest crush on her. Everyone in the gang knew, everyone teased me, but ultimately rooted for me.' Another drag. The hint of a bitter smile on Sanghyuk's lips. 'Until one of them got close to her. Started hanging out with her. They were in the same class, see. I only shared a few with her. And… well, do I need to spell it out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does not, not at all — but Seokwoo sees a hint of catharsis in the words spoken aloud, sees the foundation of a bridge being laid down if he utters them. He wants to hear them, so that he and Sanghyuk can reach towards something — so that he can relate a story of his own, in some parts similar and in others different. So that Sanghyuk can feel just a bit lighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'What happened?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'I saw them. One day, after he cancelled a meet-up. I was planning on going to the wasteland anyway, because there lived a cat I used to feed. So I went, and… well, instead of the cat, I saw them. Sitting on the upside-down truck. Kissing.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk marks a pause, lights his dying cigarette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'It's not like she ever was mine. She was her own person, you know. But…'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'But you liked her, and he was your friend.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk takes yet another drag, his penultimate if he manages to get something else out of the measly butt held between his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Yeah. Yeah.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives up on his final drag, stubs out his cigarette. Glances up at Seokwoo afterwards, looking into his eyes, as if he were searching for something — Seokwoo wonders if he finds it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe — maybe he does. It's too early for Seokwoo to know: the only memories he has of his favourite cousin are almost two decades old, and back then hiding away a part of oneself wasn't a necessity to survive in a community.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk turns away from the scenery, leans back against the railing, elbows resting on the thin bar of metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'And you?' he says. 'What's the view you don't like anymore?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unexpected, something other than what Seokwoo thought he would hear. Yet seemingly fitting Sanghyuk — Seokwoo lets the story that sat on the tip of his tongue die, racks his brain in search of another one. It takes a while, some seconds, but eventually he remembers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'You know my city, right?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Not that good, but I'm familiar with a few things here and there, yeah. Would that be enough?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Don't know,' Seokwoo shrugs. 'Is the Oakling School part of these things?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk frowns, thinking the question through, combing through the data he's learnt throughout his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Not really. You went to Oakling?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Yeah, I did.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokwoo waits, expects for the conversation to go off on a tangent, for his story to join the one that seemed to be perfect just a few minutes ago. It does not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokwoo clears his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Anyway,' he continues. 'Oakling is like, a huge building. It kind of looks like a church, a little, with stained-glass windows and random gothic parts of architecture. Honestly much too big for a simple elementary school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There used to be a wasteland, kinda like yours, though much bigger. When I first started school there, the teachers said they were planning to build something — a new path for the third exit mainly, but also other things they just couldn't name, because work wasn't even in planning back then, it was just an idea on the back of everyone's mind. Go figure why. Perhaps the headmaster had spent every penny of his into the stained-glass windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyway. I didn't have much friends back then, I was… kind of a loner.' Seokwoo pauses, doesn't know if he should add what's on his mind, if it wouldn't be embarrassing to do so. Shrugs the thought away, and says it anyway. 'Still am.' He chuckles — doesn't dare meeting Sanghyuk's gaze. 'I had one friend, a kind guy who had the entire collection of the newest Pokémon cards. Seonggu, his name was. Very neat guy. We were in the same class until third grade — we couldn't see each other as much, but we stayed close. Until he moved away. Just before the summer. He told me he'd be moving after the usual end of year school fair, and that… well, that we wouldn't see each other anymore.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokwoo smiles, sadly. Can remember it all, can even picture how the conversation went. Can still see Seonggu standing before him, as they put their cake plates in the spacious sink of his house, telling him he has something important to announce — can still feel a remnant of the pain he felt that day, shock and despair tugging on the most fragile part of his heart. He grips the railing, gently, diverts his attention from what is considered a mere detail in his story — wonders, if Sanghyuk notices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'I was really sad,' he confesses, in a whisper, his feelings overpowering his strict mind, who tells him to keep it all for himself, to retell everything emotionlessly. Sanghyuk doesn't budge from where he is — but as Seokwoo meets his gaze, he finds no reason to be ashamed. He relaxes muscles he didn't know had become tense; straightens himself up. 'I didn't see him after the school fair. The holidays started. I… Well, what I did of my summer doesn't really matter. But I caught news of work being done at school during that time. 'They're finally building that road,' ma told me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Along with a park.'</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>'Nice,' Sanghyuk whispers — smiles, as he meets eyes with Seokwoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'That cheered me up. I was honestly looking forward to that. And then…'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause. Seokwoo goes over his memories, to make sure he doesn't make a mistake as he retells his story, the answer Sanghyuk awaits finally threatening to fall from his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'The attempt at a park was bad. The path to the third exit was decent, though there was nothing really specific about it. It was a road, simply a road. But what they'd called a park… A few benches of different colours, erected here and there, and the grass finally cut properly; the mighty oak that stood there before giving shade to the ones who dared to sit on the floor. It was so banal, so much less than what I expected. But… it was new.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'I kept staring out the window when I was in class. I kept looking at it. Kept wanting to explore, kept wanting to go there. But I was alone, and this was a thing you did with friends. I couldn't go with ma, because who does such things with their mother? I was already a loner, I didn't want to switch the n with an s. So I waited. Patiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, one day, the teacher let most of us out early. Some of the kids, the local bullies, had messed around — I can't remember what they did anymore, but it was something mean, something stupid, that finally had payback coming for them. They were the ones I was scared of, the ones who would certainly call me a loser if they saw me alone at the 'park'... It was almost like fate.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'You went,' Sanghyuk says — pointlessly, would deem anyone listening in, because the way Seokwoo is telling his story makes it very predictable to guess this, but Seokwoo isn't anyone: he grins, shyly, and nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'I did. I seized the opportunity, and I went. There were only a few girls there, sat on a bench. Not my friends, but they weren't enemies either. They didn't care.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'How did it go?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Just like an excursion goes when you're eight years old. It was fascinating, somehow. Change — it was really something to witness. It's stupid, looking back on it, because it was never actually meaningful, was not even pretty. But, somehow…'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk turns back again, facing the scenery before him and Seokwoo — this time he fully leans against the rail of the balcony, arms crossed on the bar and head pillowed in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'What happened?' he asks, a mirror of Seokwoo earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, just like him, Seokwoo wants to ask if he really needs to spell it out, if he truly needs to retell it for Sanghyuk to know. If his story really must end on a pathetic note, rather than on a good reflection on childhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Take a guess,' he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk doesn't smile — simply looks at him, and shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'No. You say it all. From start to finish. I might know what happens, but only you know the why and the how, and the consequences. Can you stomach saying it?' he adds, suddenly unsure of where they stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokwoo reassures him immediately, tells him he definitely can. Really wishes he didn't have to, but in a way, he's the one who started this all, and Sanghyuk is listening to his every word, is giving him what he asked for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he confesses that he spent some time there, exploring and, after a while, simply enjoying the new sights — he confesses that he spent so much time in his own mind, he didn't notice the bullies walking out of the school. Didn't hear them coming at first, and when he did, it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It truly is a pathetic ending to such a story: Seokwoo being called names, being laughed at, not being hit but being verbally abused — getting hurt, and never wanting to go back to the park of the school, tearing up and sometimes crying whenever he caught a glimpse of it, whenever he thought of it. Truly feeling like the loneliest soul in the world, and almost flunking his classes, then drowning himself in his studies. It's a sad ending, that opens doors to many others, and Seokwoo puts on a mask of tranquility when he ends it on hating the park since then, not crying anymore but still avoiding the place, feeling uneasy at the thought of coming back. Lies, but if Sanghyuk notices, if he figures it out, he doesn't say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods as Seokwoo reaches his conclusion — nods, then looks away, back at the scenery he doesn't like anymore. And it suddenly hits Seokwoo, that he's not here to talk about himself, to rant about his past experiences, not even to listen to Sanghyuk's — that uncle Lee is dead, dead as a doornail, and if it changes the way the planets orbit around him, then surely for Sanghyuk it must be his entire world that is now spinning in a totally different direction. Perhaps time has even stopped, and Sanghyuk has no idea how to get accustomed to this world, has trouble settling down with the gravity suddenly changing formula. If everything in Seokwoo's heart is upside-down — then surely Sanghyuk's current experience must be chaos, from start to finish, from top to bottom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'I'm sorry,' Seokwoo says, shaking his head, trying to get rid of the sudden guilt attacking his mind, the mean, thoughtful demons whispering evil nothings to his ears. 'I'm talking about my life when… when it is not the time for such things.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'It's all good.' He narrows his eyes, seemingly looking at something in the distance — thinking, perhaps, trying to put order to his thoughts. 'We can't spend our entire time talking about the dead. Ma herself is probably talking about something else right now,' He nods in her direction, in a heated discussion with their grandparents. 'And personally, I have an entire life to talk about him. He's a heavy presence, you know. I don't mind being given something else to think about.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles — a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, already too full of sorrow, of tears threatening to fall, to even accept the slice of happiness hanging in the air awkwardly, letting it fall to the floor instead. Seokwoo swallows, and makes sure not to step on it. Perhaps in due time, Sanghyuk will pick it up, and embrace it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'I'm sorry,' he repeats, this time without adding anything else, his apology being something else entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk nods, twice, and a droplet of water falls onto the railing, crashes against it before sliding down it, dropping further and further, landing on the ground if its fall doesn't strip it of itself — he wipes his tears away with the sleeve of his jumper, and sniffles, clears his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Thanks.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath — inhales, exhales, but it doesn't quite work, and tears well up in his eyes once more a few seconds later, roll down his cheeks — he tries his best, looks away and attempts to get rid of them, but they're stronger than him, and fall nevertheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's nothing Seokwoo can really do: uncle Lee cannot be brought back to life, and neither can Seokwoo fix Sanghyuk's heart. He cannot repair the damage that has been done, can only pick up the pieces of Sanghyuk's heart and put them back together — leaving them with cracks, and in a slightly used condition, but — Seokwoo thinks of his story, and then Sanghyuk's — having a heart that is as good as new is a chimera, an impossible pipe dream. And it doesn't really mean much anyway: if one were to get a new heart, then wouldn't they lose a part of themself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokwoo thinks, and thinks — remembers how lonely he felt as the bullies laughed at him, and imagines that Sanghyuk must have felt the same when he came across his friend and the girl he liked. Did anyone ever comfort him? Only Seokwoo's parents cheered Seokwoo up: there was none else to help. And things go by, things change, scars heal — but if there is one regret that Seokwoo has concerning this part of his life, it's that he never had someone else. Never having a hand reaching out to him, when he dearly needed it; being led to believe he had to shoulder it all on his own. It isn't a feeling he was ever fond of, and — as he looks at Sanghyuk, hunched over, desperately trying to stop his tears — he realises he doesn't like seeing it reflected in Sanghyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Hey.' He tugs on the sleeve of Sanghyuk's jumper, asks of him to pay attention. Sanghyuk looks up, looks at him through the thousand tears filling his eyes and slowly falling down his cheeks. 'Come here.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokwoo opens his arms, widely — he doesn't need to say, doesn't need to do more: Sanghyuk understands, knows what he means; burrows himself in his arms and drowns in his embrace, lets out his misery against his chest, on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wall uncle Lee had spent years to build has certainly fallen down, is now ruins upon ruins — but it has brought hearts with it as it fell, buried feelings along with the old man's body. Seokwoo does not know if it is a necessary evil, thinks they could have lived without it — but what happens happens, and there is nothing that can change it. Sanghyuk is there, again; in his arms and letting it all out — for now, they have to make do with this, and figure out how to get better, figure out what to do with what is left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokwoo thinks of his attempt at a park, looks at Sanghyuk's wasteland — murmurs that everything will be alright, and hugs Sanghyuk just a little tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Do you want to hear another story?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanghyuk says yes, and listens as Seokwoo starts talking about a fateful first of February.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps for now, they can let the ruins rest.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ahahaha i understand jack shit about grades and years</p></blockquote></div></div>
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